Midnight Run
by Jael K
Summary: Len has a very important, very serious mission. Maybe he shouldn't have let Mick and Ray tag along... Inspired by a Tumblr post by dirty-half-dozen. Set in my "If I Never" 'verse.


This started with a Tumblr post by dirty-half-dozen. I just couldn't help running with it. :)

Set in my "If I Never" 'verse, probably about two years after "Wait for It." Thanks for LarielRomeniel for the beta! I own nothing.

...

His first mistake is letting those two nitwits tag along.

Len emerges from the all-night grocery store, box over his shoulder, and shakes his head at the sight of Ray Palmer, knees nearly to his chin, sitting in the sidecar of Mick's bike and apparently contemplating the stars over the nearly deserted Central City plaza.

"You do realize you look ridiculous," he drawls, propping the box on a hip as he stops to take in the sight. "And why the hell did either of you think it was necessary to accompany me? I'm got far more experience, such as it is, than either of you do at this point."

Raymond shrugs, casting a look over his shoulder at the liquor store next door. "Mick wanted booze. He thinks we might finally have polished off all of Rip's old stash on the Waverider. And Sara threatened him if he drinks in front of her right now, so he didn't dare break into yours..."

"Right." Len had witnessed that threat. It had been...effective. "Well. Make yourself useful." He moves to toss the box at the other man, then pauses. "Or are you two heading right back to the ship?"

"Nope, we'll go back to the apartment first and say goodbye." Raymond holds up a hand in a way Len suspects might be the Boy Scout salute. "We'll be quiet. Honest."

"You'd better." He tosses the box to the former Eagle Scout, who catches it easily, then saunters over to his own bike. "And Mick better get his ass in gear. Or I'll let him..."

"Move!" For a big man, Mick Rory can run pretty very quickly when he needs to, an ability that has served him well over the course of a career as an arsonist, a crook, a hero and now, a Time Master. He's on his bike in a blink, handing Raymond a large bag, leaving his former partner watching him with raised eyebrows as he starts the machine and begins to move off into the night.

"What..."

"Snart, trust me. **Move**!"

So he does, slinging a leg over his own bike, firing it up and pulling up alongside Mick and Raymond as they head back toward the apartment.

Wait.

There are sirens.

Of course there are sirens.

"Mick..."

"I forgot my wallet." He can barely hear the other man's shout over the howl of the air as it rushes past them.

"So you didn't, I don't know, borrow cash from Palmer or me? You decided to knock over a fuckin' liquor store?!"

"I wanted to see if I could still do it!"

"You _asshole_!" But the words are ripped away by the wind, and he hunkers back over the bike, cutting in front of the other machine as he starts a pattern specifically designed to lose the police, one he hasn't had to use in years. Mick follows.

For a moment, he contemplates losing his sometime teammates, too, and leaving them to explain themselves to Central City's finest. But Raymond has the box. And there are no other all-night stores nearby.

Well. At least he's good at this. Or he used to be.

Apparently he still is...or the CCPD has apparently been getting sloppy on its driving courses. He loses the pursuit with little problem. After Len makes absolutely sure of that fact, they pull into the apartment building's parking garage and stow the bikes. (Mick and Raymond will be taking Mick's bike back to the Waverider, and the registration on his isn't linked to the apartment or the name he uses on the deed; old habits die hard.)

Len rounds on them both before they can take more than a step toward the entryway.

"What the fuck were you _thinking_?"

Mick Rory, Time Master, narrows his eyes at his former partner. "Chill, Snart. Like I said, wanted to see if I still had it. No one got hurt."

"And you chose now to do that? _Now_?" He can feel his voice rising, channels it down into a chilly hiss. "When I have...a lot of other things going on? Or was that part of it? Need to prove you're still capable of petty larceny while other people are, I don't know, actually _growing up_?"

The other man's expression suggests that he might be on to something. "Well..."

Len, however, is rounding on the other member of the trio. "And did you know?"

Raymond looks a trifle sheepish. "Maybe. Sounded like fun."

"Fun." Len opens his mouth, shuts it, at once at a loss for words.

"Thought there was no way cops would hassle a dad buying diapers in the middle of the night," Mick mutters, a smile lurking around the corners of his mouth.

Len gives him a withering look. "Stuff it."

Raymond...snickers. "Done with the lecture...dad?"

At this point, he's had enough. "OK. You two can come back and visit some other time, OK? I need to get these upstairs. And you're not going to want to be around when I tell Sara why it took a lot longer than it needed to."

That gets their attention. With muttered apologies (and a few more snickers), the pair head back out into the night, heading for the cloaked Waverider. Len shakes his head, shoulders his burden, and heads for the elevator.

Upstairs, he eases the door open and gingerly moves into the darkened room...turning to stop in his tracks at the sight of Sara, who's eyeing him with an odd mixture of relief and annoyance.

"There were...complications," he tells her, setting the box down and holding out his hands in an appeasing gesture.

"Complications."

"Right."

Sara just shakes her head. "Here," she says, holding out her small burden with a sigh. "You had the easy part. _You_ can change her."

The easy part. Right. Len reaches out and accepts Lauren Diana Lance Snart, two weeks old, who stirs in his arms with a small mumble and a wave of one tiny fist. He lets his daughter grab onto his finger with a smile, then moves toward the changing table, steering the box of diapers with him with a foot.

"Watch it. She's not wearing anything under that blanket; it seemed better than letting her stay dirty." Sara rubs her eyes with one hand. "Next time, we can't both assume that the other parent is the one who bought the diapers."

"Right." Depositing Lauren on the table, he holds her wiggling body in place with one hand and wrests a diaper from the box with another. "I sort of have to text Barry. I need to...smooth a few things over before we can go back to that plaza, anyway."

Sara lifts an eyebrow. "This has to do with the...complications?"

"It might."

"And the reason Mick and Ray didn't come back?"

"Uh huh."

Lauren is obviously thinking about waking up again; Len smiles a little at the annoyed look on her face, tucking her into a sleeper (a gift from the Steins) and hoisting her back to his shoulder before turning to look at his tired, gorgeous wife.

"Maybe," he tells her, "we need a minivan."


End file.
